


as old as your omens

by flowermasters



Series: lady kylo ren (and her general) [28]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (i mean. it's kylo.), Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Mild Dissociation, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Verbal Abuse, relationships are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowermasters/pseuds/flowermasters
Summary: A reunion, among other things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, children and all related topics, implied past child abuse (of a verbal and physical nature), dissociation, brief violence.
> 
> ... so, a real fun time for everybody. Anyway, it's my Kylux anniversary (which coincides with the birthday of this series.) Wowza.
> 
> Title comes, unironically, from "The Mother We Share" by CHVRCHES.

Watching the children walk away proves to be more difficult than Kylo had expected. This isn’t true separation, not the likes of which she experienced once with Padmé, who is perhaps now old enough to handle it – but Danny wasn’t even born then, and has no frame of reference for what’s happening. He looks very small as he totters across the nearly empty hangar, clutching the hem of Rey’s tunic, but he smiles and waves when he looks back. Padmé doesn’t look back at all, her auburn braid bobbing as she turns her head up toward Rey and says something to her. Even Millicent peers around Rey’s upper arm, curious, as she is toted along. Well – if there was anyone to entrust with them other than Leia, it would be Rey. Still, something in Kylo feels unsettled, some piece of her shifting out of alignment as they leave her line of sight.

After a moment, she forces herself away from the doors, farther into the _Falcon._  Hux is already changing into the clothing Leia brought on board after they landed. He’d claim to be rushing for the sake of expediency, but Kylo suspects Hux simply doesn’t want to dwell on being away from the children. He’d kissed them both goodbye and then headed into the ’fresher – Kylo can sense him fussing in there now, a persistent restlessness palpable through the door. Leia stands nearby, doing her level best not to look impatient. Kylo wasted enough time as a child to know that expression well.

“Hux, come on,” Kylo says, avoiding Leia’s gaze. “It’s not a beauty contest.”

The ’fresher door opens with a hiss. Hux glares at her – at least, Kylo thinks he’s glaring. He’s wearing an opaque black veil, mercifully one without ornamentation; there’s a slit for his eyes, but otherwise he’s unrecognizable. He could be anyone, and that, of course, is the point.

“Go on, say it,” Hux says. “I look ridiculous.”

“Veils are common in some cultures,” Kylo says, which is true. Also true is that Hux looks ridiculous, but agreeing with him on that will do no good. “It could be worse.”

“Yes, I suppose it could be a mask,” Hux says. He’s joking, but there’s still an edge to it. He’s wound up tight with nervous energy and looking for an outlet – whether he realizes it or not. Kylo suspects he doesn’t, because if he did, he wouldn’t be doing it quite so obviously.

“We should get moving,” Leia says, heading for the doors with the air of someone used to being followed without question. Kylo and Hux resent it in equal measure, but neither of them says anything: Hux because he’s too busy trying to _get a grip_ – his thoughts, not hers – and Kylo because she simply doesn’t have the energy for it. She’s already wasted enough effort yelling at Leia today, so she follows without question, and Hux brings up the rear.

Leia meant what she said about this place being small – on the planet’s surface, it is. There’s a hangar and not much else. The turbolift ride belowground, short though it is, is enough to make Kylo lightheaded. It doesn’t take much to trigger a dizzy spell today; staring out the viewport at hyperspace earlier had made her hearing go fuzzy and the floor tilt, but she breathed her way through that one and she does the same now. Kylo stumbles slightly while stepping from the lift, but catches herself with one quick hand on the doorframe. Leia’s gaze flicks toward her, startled. Hux doesn’t notice, too busy panicking internally at the sight of the first other person they’ve seen on the base.

It’s just a Resistance officer on his way to the lift; he pauses to greet Leia, his gaze lingering briefly on Kylo and Hux. Kylo sucks in a steadying breath and pushes outwards with the Force, urging him to go about his business. He does, his expression going a bit blank as he excuses himself and steps with renewed purpose into the lift they’ve just vacated.

Leia waits til the door shuts, then looks at Kylo. “That wasn’t necessary,” she chides. “Are you alright?”

This Hux does notice; Kylo can see him watching her, the look in his eyes and the position of his eyebrows suggestive of a frown. Kylo doesn’t even have to brush against his mind to know he’s filing her reaction to this question away for analysis later, but he won’t add to any appearance of weakness on her part in front of Leia. Good – it’s something for them to discuss at another time, when Leia’s not around. “Fine,” Kylo says. “Let’s go.”

There’s a surprisingly labyrinthine series of corridors and rooms they must move through. The Resistance has always known how to stretch a little space a long way, so Kylo is probably less startled by this than Hux is. The instinctively cramped feeling of being subterranean does little for Kylo’s lightheadedness, but she wills it away. They pass two others in the corridors; though Leia’s presence draws attention no matter what, a push with the Force keeps these encounters brief and forgettable. Nevertheless, the walk takes only five minutes or so. Kylo finds herself wishing for Hux’s sake that it could’ve been longer – purposeful movement calms him, and he is still worryingly on-edge. Hux’s anxiety bleeds into Kylo as it is wont to do, leaving her almost as restless and disoriented as him.

Leia brings them to a dimly lit room that features a computer console and a large transparisteel window – no doubt a two-way mirror. The room beyond the window is small, bland; there’s a table and one occupant, an elderly man in a gray jumpsuit who stares straight ahead at the wall. Even if Kylo didn’t know, logically, who this man must be, the sudden pulse of recognition she can sense from Hux would clue her in immediately. He’s _distressed_ , for lack of a better word, floored by a bizarre cacophony of feelings and anxieties that means nothing to him except _Father._

Kylo wants to shield Hux from Leia, but it’s too late – she has to have felt it already. “Hux,” Kylo says, before Leia can get the chance to speak. “Look at me.”

He does; Kylo can already feel him pulling himself together, see the steel returning to his eyes. Hux is good at burying his panic – she’s seen him do it plenty of times before. Only she would be able to tell that it’s gnawing at him now, and that’s because she knows him more intimately than any other.

“Yes?” Hux says. Brisk and efficient, like always.

“Just let me do it,” Kylo says. “It would take a few minutes – tops. I can make him talk.” _I can make it hurt._

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hux says, just as she knew he would. Not out of concern for Brendol, or respect for Leia’s wishes – out of pride. “I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to,” Leia interjects. She’s been studying them, analyzing this interaction – perhaps hoping to understand. Kylo sometimes feels her mother’s eyes on her during her rare visits, following just a bit too closely for comfort. Hux is one of many things about Kylo that Leia has never quite _understood_ , even if she has respected it out of necessity. Maybe Leia still wonders, even now, what parts of Kylo are her fault and what aren’t. “If you’ve changed your mind.”

Kylo wishes Leia hadn’t spoken – Hux would never fall on anyone’s mercy in such a way, least of all Leia’s. “I’m ready when you are, General,” Hux says, stepping forward. His posture is at military levels of perfection as he steps in front of the door, though he looks a good deal thinner than he might have hoped without the greatcoat and fitted tunic of old.

“Very well,” Leia says, after a moment’s pause. She walks over to the console, then enters a command; the door opens with a low hiss. Through the transparisteel, Kylo can see Brendol’s head turn automatically towards the noise. Hux’s body blocks her view of Brendol through the doorway, but once Hux steps into the room, Kylo enters behind him. She doesn’t glance back at Leia, though she can feel Leia silently urging her not to follow. Despite a suspicion that Kylo might destabilize the situation, Leia had conceded this – Kylo’s right to protect Hux, even from someone who couldn’t physically hurt him – and Kylo takes advantage of it now.

There’s several beats of silence, broken only when the door slides shut. Brendol trains his eyes on Hux, taking in the veil. His distaste for it would be palpable even without the Force. After a few seconds, he looks toward Kylo, his gaze lingering on her scar. It has faded after several years, but it’s still the first thing most people notice about her. Hux takes this opportunity to reach up and remove the veil, lowering the black fabric to his side in a clenched fist.

“Father,” he says, and then waits.

The silence that follows is excruciating. Kylo finds herself torn between their minds; it’s difficult to process both of their reactions simultaneously. Hux is focusing on keeping his breathing even and his facial expression neutral, which helps a bit. Brendol, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to know what to feel. Kylo fights her immediate urge to press into his mind like a hot poker, forcing herself to go gently even at the surface level. Leia will eject her immediately if she tries anything in the vein of a poker.

“Junior,” Brendol says finally. His voice is just like Hux remembers it – deep and resonant, with the same polished accent – even if his appearance has changed with the passage of time. Hux takes a few rigid steps forward, then sits in the chair waiting directly across from Brendol. There’s another seat next to Hux, but Kylo generally prefers to stand for this sort of thing. It intimidates. A pointed thought from Hux, however – _don’t hover_ – forces her into the second chair.

“I realize that you’re probably surprised by this turn of events,” Hux says, folding his hands in front of him on the table. He must’ve tucked the veil away into his pocket without Kylo noticing. He looks like an overgrown schoolboy – hair neatly combed, eyes forward, sitting straight-backed as a top cadet. He _feels_ like an overgrown schoolboy, Kylo notes; there’s something about facing his father across a table that seems to make this feeling even more insidious. Kylo has seen what Hux’s dreams look like. She knows the effect his father’s desk had on him as a child, the unbreakable link between that desk and his own weakness.

Brendol stares at him, silent for several moments. Hux allows him time to process, still taking steady, even breaths; focusing on the immediate allows him to ignore whatever he deems extraneous. Kylo turns her attention to Brendol again. This close, she can see that he looks to have been a solidly built man, once. His shoulders have stooped with age, but he looks to be in fair health. His face bears little resemblance to Hux’s, save for a hint of similarity around the furrowed brow. Brendol’s hair, the one thing Hux inherited, has lost its natural red; Kylo can see hints of that in the threads of silver at Hux’s temples.

“I don’t know why I’m even surprised, boy,” Brendol says finally. “I suppose I should have expected you’d find one more way to disgrace me.”

Hux’s expression doesn’t change as he registers those words – _boy, disgrace_ – but Kylo’s must, because Brendol’s gaze flicks toward her briefly. She says nothing; the only thing she could manage at the moment would be a curse. Brendol’s suspicion is a flickering thing, almost quick enough to be missed, before Hux distracts him.

“I know,” Hux says, startling Kylo. Few others have ever dared to say such a thing to Hux; his ruthlessness was no secret to the First Order, even before Starkiller. Kylo has only ever seen Hux swallow his pride in such a way for Snoke, and there was no other option when it came to Snoke. “I’ve had to make certain sacrifices to stay alive. The Order was the biggest.”

“You’d have done well to stay dead,” Brendol says. His tone is cold, almost mechanical, but Kylo can feel the rage simmering under the surface – a rage borne from years of resentment, and from years of taking that resentment out on someone else. Hux doesn’t need the Force to know that rage is there. “I must admit I hoped you were. I heard the rumors – I hoped the Supreme Leader’s pet witch had taken you away to dispose of you.”

Brendol’s gaze flickers toward Kylo again. “I see now that she didn’t.”

Kylo works hard to control her expression, but it’s never been her strong suit, and the phrase _pet witch_ makes her fingers itch toward violence. Brendol gives her a darkly triumphant look, as if satisfied by a gamble. He can’t be sure of who she is – can only guess based off whatever shoddy holo footage the First Order ever managed to acquire of her unmasked face – but he knows he’s struck a nerve. “No, I suppose it was too convenient, your disappearance lining up so closely with the Supreme Leader’s. Tell me, Junior, was she worth it?”

 _Calm_ , Hux thinks, mostly at Kylo. _Be calm_.  

“I did what I had to,” Hux says steadily. “As you did. You must’ve gotten involved with the Order, then. After what happened to the Supreme Leader.”

“I felt I owed it to the galaxy, after everything,” Brendol says. He leans back in his seat slightly, as though settling in, and that’s when Kylo realizes what Hux is doing – giving Brendol a captive audience, letting him air his grievances. It’s something he hasn’t been able to do with Leia – and if he’s like Hux in this regard, it’s something he must enjoy.

Hux only has to do a little prompting here and there to get Brendol to talk about what befell the Order after his defection – skirmishes with the Resistance, power vacuums, typical fare. Though Brendol is cautious, he won’t pass up an opportunity to harangue the Republic. Kylo could care less what Brendol wants to talk about, so she tunes his words out while honing in on his thoughts. She could be doing something useful, like poking through Brendol’s thoughts for information, but Hux’s appearance has brought a stream of memories tantalizingly close to the surface. It’s usually difficult to explore memories that are more than a few minutes old; they live deep within the mind, requiring time, skill, care, and luck to find, meaning the subject generally notices something amiss long before the search is complete. But the strings in Brendol’s mind which have to do with Hux have just been plucked, making for much easier threads to follow.

The majority of the images Kylo skims through aren’t pleasant, which is unsurprising. Most are meaningless to her, but she recognizes one, or at least, she recognizes the context; it’s faded after all this time, but she catches a brief flash of a much younger Hux, lying shirtless in an infirmary bed, his abdomen bandaged and his shoulders jerking with wild sobs. The memory is tinged with disdain, making Hux’s tears seem embarrassing, even shameful. Hux has an old scar on his torso, a souvenir from a fight when he was a teenager. He’s never explicitly said as much, but Kylo has always assumed that Hux killed the other cadet in self-defense. It’s not something he dwells on, not when he’s taken more lives than he could ever count, but Kylo sees now that it must’ve been difficult for him, once.

There’s more swirling about in Brendol’s thoughts – there’s snippets of Hux all the way up to several months before the destruction of the Hosnian system, the one thing Brendol seems satisfied with. Then there’s Hux before Kylo knew him, as an officer in his twenties. Hux as a skinny teenager, clever but still soft with youth. Hux as a child, tearful, always tearful, and so much like Daniel that it horrifies Kylo to think of him that way when she knows what will happen to him if he cries –

Brendol startles Kylo slightly when he laughs, a harsh noise that sends her instinctively withdrawing from his thoughts. If Brendol notices, he gives no indication. He’ll probably develop a headache soon, but Kylo couldn’t feel sorry for him if she tried.

Kylo looks toward Hux, frowning and trying to catch up with the conversation. If it was tense before, it’s even more so now. “I’m serious, Father,” Hux is saying, unsmiling. “I’ve never been loyal to the Resistance. Organa trusts me far more than she should.”

“You really expect me to believe that she’s not on the other side of that wall?” Brendol says, nodding as if to indicate the wall behind Kylo and Hux.

“Would I be saying this if she was?” Hux says. He keeps a direct challenge out of his tone; from what Kylo knows of Brendol, that would trigger an adverse reaction on principle. “I know she wants information. You were right not to give it to her, Father, but she won’t rest until she has it.”

“So what are you playing at, then?” Brendol prompts. His expression has shifted from the mask of cold indifference of before – now there’s a hint of appraisal in his eyes. Kylo suspects he doesn’t believe Hux, but he must at least be interested to see where this is going.

“Nothing,” Hux says. “Just that there are some strings I can pull, if I get the information before Organa does.”

“And you would do that?” Brendol leans back slightly in his chair again, as if to see Hux better. Hux sits still under the scrutiny. Kylo has to force herself not to shift; another good thing that comes from standing is that it’s easier to pass off nervous energy. “You would risk exposure?”

“For the Order,” Hux says. “Yes.”

Silence falls while Brendol studies Hux, his expression difficult for Kylo to interpret, as she doesn’t know him as well as Hux does. She has advantages that Hux doesn’t, of course – she can feel that Brendol doesn’t believe him, and she has the power to intervene. “Just tell us what we want to know,” she says, giving a little _push_. Not enough to make Leia angry with her, surely, but it’s there.

Kylo’s voice startles both of them, since she hasn’t spoken at all since entering the room. Hux glances at her for a split second, confused, then looks at his father. Brendol gives her a strange look as his mind registers the command, which sinks in slowly, insidiously – then he resists it, shaking his head as though to clear it. Luke had always told her that only a weak mind could be swayed easily, and thus the strategy should be used with care; she’d always found this tedious, especially once she learned she could push into the minds of others without coaxing them into it first. Kylo lifts one hand from her lap, heedless of Leia’s restrictions, knowing she’ll be able to convince Brendol through sheer force where speech has failed.

Brendol’s voice draws Kylo up short, her hand level with the tabletop. “Well,” he says, looking from Kylo to Hux. “Is that it, then?”

“Father –,” Hux begins, but Brendol cuts him off with a wave of the hand.

“I must admit, that was quite a trick,” Brendol says, more self-satisfied with every word. “But if that’s all you’ve got, boy, then you can report to Organa that you are what you’ve always been – useless.”

Hux’s reaction to this word is – unexpected. He blinks once, as though in mild surprise, but all Kylo can sense from him is a strange, radiating numbness. To Hux, this process is old hat: accepting the words or the blows and distancing himself from them for as long as necessary. Kylo feels it when he shuts down, for lack of a better term – his nerves, his anger, all gone, replaced by calm, level detachment. Perhaps it’s Hux’s lack of reaction that makes Kylo lunge across the table, sends her fist to crash haphazardly against Brendol’s jaw; if Hux won’t fight back, Kylo will.

Once her fist makes contact, it’s like a dam breaks. The table screeches, bolts losing their connection to the floor as Kylo wrenches it out of her way to get to Brendol, who has toppled sideways out of his seat. She’s aware of somebody speaking, and for a moment assumes it must be Brendol, but then she realizes it’s Hux, yelling for her to stop. She’s just gripped a handful of Brendol’s shirtfront when Hux catches her around the waist hard, using his full weight to drag her away from Brendol. Anything less and they both know Kylo would’ve freed herself easily; she still could, but she’s forced to let go of Brendol, which sobers her slightly.

Also sobering is the sudden rush of blood to her head after jumping out of her seat, which makes Kylo sag against Hux a bit, her vision swimming. Hux releases her, apparently taking this for surrender. “What were you _thinking_ ,” he’s saying, moving away from Kylo now that he’s certain she won’t come for Brendol again. He bends over his father, who’s still lying on the ground, apparently stunned. Kylo doesn’t waste any energy checking on him with the Force. The truth is, she hadn’t been thinking much of anything other than her own outrage – but Hux already knows that.

The interrogation room door opens; Kylo turns to see Leia enter. She gives Kylo a long look – half anger, half resignation – before asking Hux, “Is he conscious?”

“I believe so,” Hux replies, snapping his fingers close to Brendol’s face as if to rouse him. When that does nothing, Hux says, “Perhaps not.”

“I’ll call for a medical droid. Put the veil back on,” Leia says. She looks to Kylo again. “You should wait in the other room.”

 _Wait in the other room, where I can trust you to behave_ – that’s what Leia means. Kylo has no intention of doing that; she can feel another dizzy spell coming on, and she’d rather not suffer it in front of Leia and Hux, both of whom will treat her like a child. In her addled state, the first place she can think of is with the children – according to Leia, Rey is keeping them in an empty set of residential quarters. That will be quiet, out of the way. She can feel them nearby, of course; this base is hardly big enough for her to get lost in. With that in mind, Kylo leaves the interrogation room, trying to convince herself that she’s not fleeing from their disappointment in her.

She hadn’t done anything that Hux wouldn’t have done, after all, if he’d been thinking clearly. If anyone but his father had said such things to him, Hux would’ve given them their due, or would’ve let her do it for him. Brendol deserved what he got and worse, Kylo decides, turning a corner as she blindly follows the thread that connects her to the children. Hux and Leia are upset, but they’ll get over it – they always do, somehow. Kylo shakes off the thought, unable to focus on much of anything; it’s too _bright_ down here, and hot, and –

Kylo wakes up to the sound of somebody speaking to her – Leia, maybe? – and has the vague impression of moving somewhere, but her body operates mostly on autopilot, seeking nothing more than a place to lie down for a while. Eventually, she must find it, because she remembers nothing at all for a brief time. When she wakes again, she’s in a cool, dim room, her head hurts, and her stomach is growling fiercely.

When Kylo opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is Hux; he’s hard to miss, as he’s sitting right in front of her. She seems to be lying on a small couch, while he’s sitting in a chair facing her, Millicent in his lap. Hux is stroking Millicent’s head and staring into space, but Millicent is looking at Kylo, unblinking. It’s a bit creepy, really.

“You’re awake,” Hux says, noticing Kylo. “How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic.”

Hux gives her a wry smile at that, then taps Millicent gently on the rump. “Off with you,” he says. When Millicent doesn’t move, Hux scoops her up and sets her on the floor himself, ignoring her meow of protest. Hux stands and moves toward what looks to be a kitchen table. They seem to be in base housing, judging by the threadbare couch and sparse appliances visible in the combination living room and kitchen; Kylo recognizes the downtrodden look of a place where nobody stays. Hux returns with a bowl and a spoon, both of which he presents without ceremony to Kylo.

“You should eat,” Hux says. “It’s soup.”

Part of Kylo wants to hold back – she hadn’t eaten much earlier in the day because she’d felt so strange – but it’s been hours and she’s ravenous now. She sits up, the promise of food more tempting than resting her head. The vegetable-based soup is lukewarm and vaguely reminds her of childhood – in the way only droid-made food can – but it’s not bad. While Kylo eats with gusto, Millicent makes her way over to a door just past the kitchenette, then sits in front of it and meows expectantly. Hux opens the door partway to let her in, then closes it behind her. Kylo can sense the children sleeping in the other room, though pushing outwards with the Force makes the ache in her head twinge unpleasantly. She reaches up with one hand to probe the back of her head, finding the area tender and probably bruised.

Hux notices this movement on his way back to the kitchenette – to fetch her a glass of water, as it turns out. “Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”  

Kylo swallows another mouthful of soup. “It’s fairly obvious,” she says. “I passed out.”

“Well, yes,” Hux says dryly, bringing her the glass of water. Kylo is nearly done with the soup, and gulps the water down eagerly. “I imagine you hit your head.”

He’s probably right; it can’t have been too serious, or she wouldn’t be functioning right now, but it was enough to rattle her brains a little. Kylo feels just awful enough to acknowledge, even if only to herself, that she wants Hux to come sit with her on the couch, to be close to her. It's selfish, after the day he's had, but it's undeniable.

 _No_ , Kylo thinks, watching as Hux sits back down in the chair, his posture stiff even for him. Something is wrong.

 She might as well confront the problem head-on, even if she doesn’t feel up to an argument. “How’s your father?” she asks, dropping the spoon into the empty bowl with a clatter.

“You only dislocated his jaw, so I suppose you were holding back,” Hux says. Kylo doesn’t miss the sarcasm in his tone. “I don’t want to talk about my father.”

Of course he doesn’t. Kylo doesn’t, either, but she would at least like to know how upset she can expect her mother to be. “Where’s Leia? And Rey?”

“Who knows,” Hux says. “Resting, maybe. They left after you were examined. Do you not remember that?”

Kylo doesn’t remember much at all, actually. She vaguely recalls a medical droid asking her questions, but all she’d wanted to do was get it over with. She risks the discomfort of brushing against Hux’s mind and finds no memory to confirm this; perhaps he was out of the room at the time. “No.”

 “I’m not surprised,” Hux says. “You’ve been sleeping for at least two hours since. I figured you needed the rest, so I kept the children away.”

She had needed it, but it doesn’t seem right to tell Hux that. The shadows under his eyes look darker than normal, and he’s been up for some time now if he’s already put the children to bed. She wonders if the slightly faraway look in his eyes is a result of fatigue or what happened earlier. Probably both. Kylo sips her water, stalling and loathing herself for it. She should apologize, much as she is loath to do so. She’d done what Hux had specifically asked her not to do – she’d interfered, and then she’d let Brendol provoke her. Hux couldn’t have known that the entire effort was doomed, anyway; he still thought there was a chance, before she attacked his father.

“How much do you remember of what happened after you fainted?” Hux asks abruptly.

“Not a lot,” Kylo says, though she is reluctant to admit this. Truthfully, she’s fine not knowing. It’s embarrassing, thinking of Leia and Rey seeing her in such a state, and she’d rather not relive it.

“So you don’t remember what they told you,” Hux surmises. “Or perhaps you already know, and just aren’t telling me.”

“Know what?” Kylo says, frowning. She probes Hux’s mind, but he’s already speaking before she can grasp on to anything.

“You’re pregnant,” Hux says. “Don’t lie. Did you know?”

Kylo blinks at him a few times, startled not so much by the revelation as by the fact that it's Hux confirming it. “I – thought I might be.”

This is the wrong thing to say, judging by the way Hux’s eyes narrow. Kylo should've expected as much, given Hux’s previous reactions to her withholding things from him, but in her muddled state she seems to have lost any semblance of a brain-to-mouth filter.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Hux asks tightly.

“I wanted to be sure,” Kylo says, which is not a lie. It was true when she told him about Daniel, too, but he hadn’t taken it well when she kept that from him. This time, at least, she hasn’t been considering it for long – she could’ve just as easily been suffering from some strange flu, for all she knew. Rather than let Hux dwell on this, Kylo asks, “How do you know? Did the droid –?”

“Your mother told me,” Hux says. “She assumed that I already knew. Everything seems to be normal, but the droid recommended iron supplements.”

“Oh,” Kylo says, surprised by her own mild relief. “That's good.”

Hux stares at her. “Kylo.”

“What?” Kylo says, already feeling defensive despite her best efforts to the contrary. This isn’t the ideal time to have this conversation, but it’s hard to be patient with Hux when she's tired and just wants to be left alone. Well, not literally, but – she'd appreciate it if he would just let it go for a little while. They can discuss this later, at home, after they’re done with everything else.

“What do you mean, what?” Hux blusters. “You – are you happy about this?”

Kylo swallows, resisting the urge to go for the water again. “I’m not unhappy,” she says finally.

“We can't keep this one. Surely you realize that.”

Kylo refuses to look away, even as she feels her cheeks heating with an uncomfortable flush. “Why not?”

“Because we've already got two that we didn't account for, and I sincerely doubt we can manage a third,” Hux says, without missing a beat. He's clearly had plenty of time to think about this, no doubt dwelling on it while Kylo was sleeping, even as he bathed the children and readied them for bed. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, how did this even _happen_? Padmé I understand, and even Daniel – but _again_?”

“Maybe a shot didn't take, or maybe I missed one, or – perhaps it was the will of the Force, I don't know,” Kylo rambles. “It just _happened_.”

It’s possible, whether Hux wants to believe it or not. It happened with Daniel, and Kylo has never really figured out how. She has a standing arrangement with the traders that come to the village every few months or so; their access to such products is limited, but they’re little more than pirates. They find ways. That doesn’t mean everything always goes according to plan.

“Oh, not the bloody Force,” Hux exclaims, loudly enough that Kylo has a vague thought about him waking the children, if they’re even able to sleep with the amount of unrestrained tension seeping from this room. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“The Force has done more for you than you care to remember, Hux,” Kylo snaps, rankled by his words even more than his tone. “How many times over would you be dead if not for the Force?”

Hux’s jaw clenches briefly, then relaxes. “Regardless,” he says, after a pause. “I find it hard to believe that the Force has told you anything about this. You’re letting yourself get attached, that's all.”

“You will, too, in time,” Kylo says. “You did with Padmé and with Danny. You're in shock, that’s all.”

“And if I'm not? Have you considered that I might be the only one of us who is thinking clearly about this?”

Even as she knows this is just a result of the day’s tension boiling over, heightening both of their emotions, Kylo can’t stop herself. Hux is the whole reason they’re here, after all, and if this is how he wants to have this conversation, so be it. “Oh, that’s rich,” she says. “You’re bottling things up and you know it – you’re upset with me, and with your father. You’ll come around, I know you will.”

“I won't,” Hux says. His tone is cold, an echo of the way he used to speak to her in their days aboard the _Finalizer_ , when he was trying to enforce the distance between them. It stings to hear it from him now, though Kylo supposes she should’ve been expecting it.

Hux doesn’t give Kylo time to formulate a response; he rightly assumes she has none. He stands, brushing briskly at his lap as if to clear away any remnants of Millicent’s presence. “I’m going to bed,” he says, looking at her briefly. “I expect it’ll be an early start in the morning.”

Kylo nods upon realizing that Hux is awaiting some kind of acknowledgement. He turns and heads for the bedroom, then slips inside silently. Kylo can sense him preparing for bed, but she can’t bring herself to join him yet. She’s too riled up, and so is Hux. She thinks of meditating to clear her mind, but meditating means opening herself up to the Force – to new possibilities, to the minds of those around her. She’s spent enough time today trying to understand what’s going on in Hux’s head. It’s difficult to put the puzzle together when he’s so intent on pretending like the pieces aren’t there.  

Eventually, Kylo must doze off on the couch again; she wakes up when her body decides to alert her of the imminent reappearance of the soup. She has no idea what time it is, but her biological clock seems to think it’s morning, judging by the level of alertness she feels after brushing her teeth in the refresher. The children must have reached the same conclusion, because Kylo can hear Padmé’s voice in the other room.

Sure enough, they’re awake; Hux comes out about a minute after Kylo has finished washing her face. He’s carrying a sleepy Daniel and followed by a groggy Padmé, both of whom brighten at the sight of Kylo, yesterday’s events not quite forgotten. The children are distracting enough that Hux and Kylo need not speak to one another. Kylo senses no change in Hux’s overall state, although he seems a bit stung, having noticed that she never came to bed. She wants to tell him that it wasn’t intentional, that she hadn’t been _that_ upset with him, but he slips into the ’fresher before she gets a chance.

Leia and Rey show up midway through the morning routine, disrupting it somewhat. Kylo is still braiding Padmé’s hair, while Hux is in the bedroom helping Daniel get dressed – a lengthy process which involves a lot of the phrase, “I can do it!” There’s a minor commotion near the door when Millicent attempts to bolt as it opens, but Rey manages to catch her by the scruff of the neck before she can escape.

“Grandma!” Padmé says, as Leia enters first. Then, somehow even louder, “Rey!”

“Hello, dear,” Leia says. She looks to Kylo then, her smile going a tad subdued. “We brought breakfast.”

Breakfast turns out to be pancakes, to the children’s absolute delight. Kylo doesn’t bother to hide the fact that her stomach won’t tolerate much of this, since almost everybody already knows why. It’s clear they’ll be leaving immediately after breakfast, so Kylo doesn’t begrudge the children this time. They don’t often get to see Leia, much less Rey, and their happiness now is unmatched – besides, they're all probably in for a tense trip home, so the children might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

Leia corners her after breakfast, on the _Falcon_ ; Kylo had expected as much, particularly once the children were distracted enough to allow for it. “Beni? A word, please.”

Kylo doesn’t argue, much as she might want to. Unlike with Hux, there’s no putting off this conversation, because who knows when she’ll see Leia next. Anyway, she’s learned over the past several years that when it comes to Leia, it’s best to get this sort of thing over with. Kylo follows Leia to the cockpit, though it’s hardly her ideal spot for a chat. There are traces of her parents all over this ship, shadows of their presence in the Force, but the cockpit holds a bit of everyone. Her mother, Chewie, Luke, even Lando, and now Rey – but her father most of all. Leia must sense that; Kylo has noticed that she only ever goes near the copilot’s seat, as though leaving a clear path for someone to take the pilot’s.

“Rey will be taking you all back,” Leia says, her expression and tone even. “I have matters that need my attention.”

“Let me guess,” Kylo says. “Cleaning up my mess.”

“No, actually,” Leia says, giving her a sharp look. “Brendol will have to heal up a bit before he’s of any use to me.”

Kylo could care less about what Brendol can provide the Resistance with, but the look in Leia’s eyes inspires a twinge of guilt in her – no matter how Kylo has tried, she’s never fully broken herself of caring what Leia thinks. Rather than express this, Kylo says, “I _told_ you what would happen, Mother. He was never going to tell Hux anything.”

“Maybe not,” Leia concedes. “But you could’ve killed him, Beni.”

“You heard the things he said,” Kylo snaps. “You know what he’s done. I know you do.”

Leia pauses, her expression softening. She doesn’t refute this. She must’ve suspected, based on what she’s heard and what she might have sensed from Brendol. Leia doesn’t like Hux and Kylo knows that, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t picked up that something is wrong – that Hux has been hurt, somehow, in a way he thought he’d long moved past. “I know,” Leia says finally. “I think we all made a mistake, in doing this.”

Kylo nods. It’s as close to agreement as they’re likely to come.

“How are you feeling?” Leia asks, before Kylo can find a way to avoid this very question.

“Fine.”

Leia seems distinctly unconvinced. “Is everything alright?” she probes further. “You’ve both been – quieter than usual.”

“We’re fine,” Kylo says, frustrated – at Leia for her questions, at Hux for acting this way, at this entire situation. “Or – we will be.”

Leia looks as though she wants to ask more questions, but something in Kylo’s expression must make her rethink this. “Well,” she says. “I’d best go and say goodbye.”

Leia opens her arms; Kylo hesitates, briefly, then steps forward and allows herself to be hugged. Moments like this never cease to remind her how small her mother is – physically, of course. “I’ll be in touch,” Leia says, once she pulls away. She tells Kylo the same thing nearly every time they part. It’s like a constant reminder of how near she is, even when the distance between them is immeasurable.

“I know,” Kylo says automatically, and Leia smiles before leading the way from the cockpit.

The children are loath to say goodbye to Leia, but the promise of a few more hours with Rey tides them over. Once the ship has made the jump, Padmé demands that Rey teach her how to play dejarik, which inevitably causes Daniel to request the same. Both Hux and Kylo make a show of observing this process when called upon; Hux surprises everyone by volunteering the way he learned dejarik, a variant neither Kylo nor Rey are familiar with. The children haven’t noticed anything off, and while Rey undoubtedly has, she’s much too clever to show it.

Kylo has, of course. She knows Hux is avoiding her, and suspects he will continue to do so, til whatever has shifted in him returns to normal. Kylo had known all along that this would be the case – that seeing his father would affect him, somehow, in a way she couldn't stop or fix – but she doesn't much feel up to an _I told you so_.


End file.
